Empathetic to the Flame

Gazing at the smoldering embers before me my thoughts derail from small talk and conversation as I focus more on the struggling flame of the fire in front of me.Capturing each flicker in my mind, I feel this sensation of starvation and yearning coming from the low flame.As a crackle of sparks are released into the sky, it is as if the fire is reaching out, calling for help. The embers burn low now, as the last of its heat pulsates through the charred rubble.This once great inferno of a fire has but diminished to ash and dust with only this minuscule flame fit for a tea light candle left. I had once been a fiery soul, this great presence amongst friends. My once grand presence in every room now forgotten as I sit in the corner of the crowd with glossy eyes. The new pathetic creature that couldn't be bothered with, but so desperately needing nurture.However, sometimes one must find themselves here as an ember before they can reignite. If someone only knew a life of being a great blazing fire they would never know how sweet the air tasted and how precious time was, their flame would surely burn out. The best of us, I'd like to think, are given periods of rest and reflection so as to adjust to the new winds in our lives as we begin a new chapter. My soul simply depicted in this flame. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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